He Gave In
by StarOfIron
Summary: He couldn't go on. His spark just gave up. He gave in to the insanity. He gave in to the rumors. He gave in because he had nothing left. Because he was cold. Because Jazz didn't love him anymore. But... what if he became warm? At what cost though?
1. Chapter 1

Just some hardcore angst. Have some stuff I need to get out of my system... healthily.

Don't know if it's good or not.

Set in Bayverse.

_Italics_ =Thoughts/Emphasized words

**Bold** =Bond/Spark talk

"Quotations" =Normal speech

-Dash thing- =Comm. link talk

DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything but the plot. If I did, there would be an entire show based off of Prowl/Jazz.

* * *

Jazz was in a horrible mood: he was dirty, under energised, deprived (of a good overload or two), and he was ready to send the next slagger that annoyed him to the pit, consequences be damned. Freshly back from a Special Ops mission that had accomplished nothing; he had come back to the Iacon base to find that the twins had played a prank that had gone south. The washracks and all the energon dispensers- except those in Medbay were out of order. However, those dispensers were only programmed to make Medical energon. Hatchet was guarding it zealously with those doom wrenches of his, only giving it to those who needed it. According to him, Jazz's levels weren't that low. Yet.

Don't get Jazz wrong; he loved his twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. They were after all, his sired creations. But sometimes they just got on his nerves and he wanted to kill them. Don't let him get started on their carrier. Prowl was a complete workaholic. Normally, after returning from a mission, his bonded would let him steal a kiss or even something more in his office. This time, he had blown him off completely. That angered Jazz, so instead of acknowledging Prowl's tentative prods along the bond, he shut it down altogether.

Ignoring the pain coming from the other half of his spark; Jazz stormed off to their quarters. White hot anger flashed through him. Only later would he realize how badly and immature he was acting. Or that he was acting under the influence of a malicious virus given to him by Soundwave.

Later, when the day shift was coming off duty, Prowl cautiously entered their quarters, hoping Jazz was in recharge. Not that anyone could see or feel his caution. Jazz was still shutting him out and the twins were off molesting... err helping their bondmate relax. As if Ratchet could ever relax whilst on duty.

He almost had made it to the berth when a voice rang out; cold, merciless, and unforgiving.

"Look who decided ta venture out of its cage. So glad you could, Prowl." Jazz had his back to him.

Prowl, not Prowler or any other variation of his name: meaning Jazz was seriously slagged off.

"I thought you would have appreciated the fact. Here, I brought you your energon." Prowl hated how his voice came out. Cold, unfeeling, flat. Oh how he lamented that he couldn't outwardly show emotion.

In a flash Jazz was up and had swiped the energon away. Only later would he realize that his bonded had given him his own ration. Spattering all over the floor and over Prowl, the liquid looked like rivers of processed energon- the Cybertronian equivalent of blood. Prowl only blinked, only able to convey his primal terror and pure fear through his spark and processor. Not that Jazz would feel it.

"So the drone actually feels. How sweet. Or did someone just program you ta bring energon?" Jazz snarled, not caring nor actually realizing what he was saying.

Prowl froze, never before had his bonded spoken to him like that. It hurt. It hurt so badly that his spark literally stuttered. He had heard the rumors of him being a drone. That he didn't have feelings. After all, what mech with a spark would send hundreds of soldiers to sure death? He was the Prime's tactician, slag it! He didn't have a choice. But would those under his command believe that? No, they were just looking for someone to blame.

"You don't mean that...?" It was barely a whisper, not a statement, but a question.

"Ya really think Ah don't? News flash, Ah don't give a slag about you. Now, I wonder why the slag Ah bonded to you. Pit, Ah wonder why Ah even gave you the time of day." Jazz pinned him against the berth, energon blade dancing across Prowl's neck cables.

Prowl couldn't do anything but panic on the inside. Never before had he been on the end of his bonded... no the saboteur's anger. All he could do was take it; there was no way for him to express how he felt physically.

"You're cold. Frozen. You're just a pile of slag. Worthless." Jazz spat onto Prowl's facial plates. "You don't have a spark. You can't. You're too dirty. Too cold. Cold, you hear me? C-O-L-D. No one can ever love you. I'm surprised I could even pretend to."

Prowl could feel himself breaking with every single word that Jazz spoke. Jazz... didn't love him? Before he could ponder it anymore, Jazz continued. Meanwhile, the dagger continued its deadly dance.

"Ah hate you! Primus, Ah just want to slagging kill you. Leave you to rot. But Ah can't. You know why? This cursed bond can't be undone. Still, Ah should. But no, Ah won't. Why? Because you have ta suffer, you made me suffer. Now it's your turn." Prowl couldn't take it anymore.

"Please, stop. You, you don't mean any of this." Prowl begged the now stranger that was above him.

Jazz just snorted. "Of course Ah do. You're cold, Prowl, and Ah hate cold."

Prowl just couldn't take it anymore, his processor was going in loops. _You're cold, Ah hate cold. You're cold, Ah hate cold..._

His spark spun painfully, trying to reach across a heavily blocked bond, yet failing every time.

If only he could express his emotions. If only his emotional cortex wasn't damaged. If only he was able to display emotions. But he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried. He couldn't show any emotion until Ratchet and Perceptor could fabricate the parts needed. Until they could repair the damage. If he wasn't beyond repair by then.

Cold.

Hate.

He was cold.

Jazz hated cold.

Jazz hated him.

Hate can't be love.

Jazz didn't love him.

That meant nobody could.

So right yet so wrong.

Prowl just gave up... he gave in to the processor crash. He gave in to this new logic. He gave in to the fact that there was no hope for him. He gave in to the insanity that had now become his life.

Somewhere among all that, his spark decided that it too would give up hope. Give up everything.

And the final thing that Prowl saw was the harsh glare of a stranger.

* * *

Don't know if anyone will actually read this. I know where this is going...

But if you think I need to change something/tone it down/or whatever. Just tell me.

Review... if you want to.

-Star of Iron


	2. Chapter 2

I am absolutely freaking shocked at how many people have reviewed/faved/followed this story.

Thank you all so, so much.

Just for this, here is a new update, freshly typed and whatnot. Enjoy!

Set in Bayverse.

_Italics_ =Thoughts/Emphasized words

**Bold** =Bond/Spark talk

"Quotations" =Normal speech

-Dash thing- =Comm. link talk

DISCLAIMER: Don't have the privilege of owned Transformers. I can't even get my family to buy me the Optimus Prime toy from Toys R Us. :(

* * *

Ratchet growled to himself, muttering about his stupid aft bondmates. Contradicting his harsh tone, he gently handled some circuits and soldered them to coding chips. Delicately, he set the new piece down. It wouldn't be good, after all, if he messed up on the parts needed to fix his carrier-in-law's emotional cortex. It had been damaged in the last battle against the 'Cons. Now, Prowl couldn't outwardly show any emotion because the damaged parts relayed his emotions to his physical aspects. It was complicated even more because of his slagging battle computer and touchy logic processor.

Enough about the creator, Ratchet now focused his tender mercies on the creations that currently were sitting on a med berth, grinning back at him. He just sighed, and rubbed his facial plates tiredly.

"What am I ever going to do with you two?" Before he knew it, two pairs of arms snaked around him; one pair silver, the other golden.

"Awww, baby, we love you two." Sideswipe nuzzled against him, while Sunstreaker just grinned.

Ratchet just tiredly shook his head, ceding control of his Medbay over to the night shift, headed by an amused First Aid. Taking this as a victory, the twins led their unresisting bondmate to their quarters.

Before anything could get started, however, the twins felt an overwhelming amount of fear coming from over their creator bond with Prowl. Immediately, they straightened. Ratchet felt it too, through the faint bond he shared with him, via the sparkbond with the twins.

They gently prodded the bond, but received no answer. The fear turned into full blown terror, pain, despair and hopelessness. Suddenly, it all disappeared, as if Prowl had gone offline.

What was going on?

* * *

The silence was oppressing. There was nothing to be heard except for the near silent hum of the other mech's systems. One by one, each of Prowl's systems powered up, pushing away the silence. A warning came into view: his battle computer and logic processor had crashed. Meaning, he could now show his emotions once again. But his emotional cortex was still damaged. Then, Prowl became aware of a familiar processor splitting ache in his helm. He frowned, why had he crashed? Accessing his memory files, Prowl flinched, his spark painfully clenching and reaching out. Right, Jazz renounced their love, Jazz hated him, Jazz didn't want him, Jazz...

"Look who's awake. Enjoy your nap, Prowl?" A familiar yet so unfamiliar voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.

Slowly onlining his optics, the tactician found himself on the floor of his shared quarters. Ones he now shared with a stranger. There, sitting on the berth was the silver saboteur, a dagger idly being twirled in his servos. Before he could begin to reply or even blink, the saboteur flew across the room and slammed him into the floor. He whimpered as his doorwings were forcefully crushed. For sure one was dislocated.

"When I talk ta you, drone, Ah expect an answer." Jazz applied more pressure, resulting in a loud crack. Prowl moaned in pain, unable to contain himself as white hot, numbing pain lanced through him.

SMACK!

Prowl's helm whipped to the side as Jazz slammed the hilt of the dagger into his cheek plate. Whimpering, he begged the mech above him to stop.

"What was that? Ya want me ta stop? Well guess what, drone? Ah ain't gonna."Jazz snarled long and low into Prowl'ws audio.

Abruptly, Jazz stood, dragging Prowl with him by a doorwing. He dragged him to the door, ignoring the pitiful begging and pleas coming from the tactician.

"Ah never want ta see you in here again. Get out of my sight, you stupid, worthless drone." With that Jazz opened the door to their... no the stranger's quarters and tossed him out into the hallway.

The door closed with an ominous click. Prowl looked around, thanking Primus that no one was around. By now the pain had faded, leaving Prowl feeling numb, cold. Just like Jazz said he was.

Where could he go? He didn't want to intrude on his creations. He couldn't just go to the Medbay looking like this. Nor did he think he was up to working. But, there was one place he could go that was a safe haven... atleast for now.

Sending a quick comm. to command, he left the Autobot stronghold in search of solitude and comfort.

* * *

Trembling, Prowl finally arrived at his destination. He was exhausted and had finally reached the outskirts of Iacon, avoiding all patrols, no matter what faction. In front of him was a nondescript looking building, seemingly uninhabitable. But what was inside was what Prowl had come for.

He entered through the large battered doors on the side of the building, coming into view of a shrine. The shrine was dedicated to Primus. A statue, made of Cybertronian steel resided in the alcove above the altar where a single oil candle burned. It depicted the kindly face of who supposedly was the God of Cybertron.

Shaking and whining in distress, Prowl fell to his knees in front of the altar, hands reaching out in front of him grasping at everything yet nothing; tears now openly flowing down his facial plates. He looked up into the features of his deity, trying to find the answer.

"Why? Why, Primus, why must You test me so? Haven't I suffered enough? I am already charged with the task of sending Your children to their deaths. Each death kills me even more. I can't go on. I'm giving up. My strength, the only thing that kept me on my pedes has left me. Left me behind, rejected me." Prowl spoke softly, voice filled with pain, defeat.

"Before, I was only cracked. But now? Now I'm broken, in shards, defeated. Jazz doesn't love me. Jazz is my all. He is my life. I don't just want him, I NEED him. I need him to balance me. He's everything to me. But he doesn't want me, love me, need me, he never has. What happened to our union? He swore to You that he loved me, that he would never leave me. If this is punishment, My Lord, it is too cruel. Death would be mercy for me... but I'm not even worthy of that. Drones don't get into the Well. That's only reserved for the living. I'm nothing. Just a drone. A tool. Please. Please, Lord, please. Let me go. I don't want to live, I can't go on. Take me away from here. Take me away..." With these words, sobbing in despair, Prowl opened his spark chamber, a dagger now held firmly in his hands.

Raising the dagger high, he sent it on a deadly arc towards his soul.

* * *

Guess you guys weren't expecting that! This won't be updated until like the day after tomorrow. My other story, In His Grace, needs to be written too!

**NOTE**: I have gotten a lot of things like Jazz is too... weird. Like he isn't acting like he's supposed to or whatever. But remember, in the first chapter it is stated that Jazz is acting under a virus.

Drop me a review if you have anything to say!

**Guest Reviews (review answers to people I couldn't PM):**

**Guest: **Glad you liked it. Congrats on first review!

**Autobotgirl2234**: I know, even I'm thinking: 'Bad Jazz'!

**cool**: Thank you!

Au Revoir!

Star of Iron


End file.
